Wandering around

The dive resort is right smack in a town, with a pedestrian road running right between the restaurant and the dive shop, with offers of sunglasses and bracelets woven as we pull on wet wetsuits.

I wandered around with my camera this afternoon, a bit of a rest from the physicality of diving. I’m shy about photographing people, living uneasily in the tension between the story telling of street photography and discomfort at treating people like landscape. Am thinking of doing a workshop in Cuba on this kind of travel photography, but unfortunately, the week it’s offered, I’m work-booked. Today I was tentative, just walked and greeted.

Puerto Galero is stuck on the side of a hill, running down to the sea with footpaths carved more by gravity than design. I kept accidentally wandering into people’s doorways, when what I thought was the public footpath wound upward and stopped at the steps to the highest house.


The town is perched around Sabang Bay, and the seafront is all dive hotels and bars with shaggy, empty expats propped here and there, foreigners and philippinos alike sitting on the edge of the grubby, working beach.

pool fee

Villas on top of the hill where expat older white guys live, married to young Filipina women.


The bay is stuffed with traditional boats, reminding me that, like Indonesia, the Philippines is really a sea-oriented country. People completely at home in boats.

sabang bay

Looking past the bars and people selling sunglasses and pearls, a vivid working town.

shrine 2

Very few private vehicles, but lots of motorcycles, with and without sidecars. I’m guessing if we were a little less insulated in our resort, I’d know the local name for them. The busses are apparently called jeepneys — influence of the US Army.


Shrines and little girls in their underpants or naked paddling in the edge of the sea and men leading goats.


Little girls at a holiday party.

little girls

Making my way up one footpath and down it when once again I mistook a private tiny lane for a way to the public road, I looked in too many times on a woman soothing her child in a low crib, room darkened against the heat, doors wide open. Inside/outside porous and translucent.

pink tricycle


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